


Till Human Voices Wake Us

by Cinaed



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-12
Updated: 2007-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-07 14:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many reasons that Radek doesn't like to go off-world. Being stuck in a half-submerged Ancient outpost has just become another one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Till Human Voices Wake Us

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go out to audreyscastle and blue_raven for beta-reading this for me, and pierson and rosewildeirish for helping me with medical stuff ages ago. The title comes from T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock."

“I still do not see why you could not do this yourself, McKay,” Radek complains into his radio, shining his flashlight down the hall and ignoring the sergeant walking next to him who is fighting back an amused grin. “But I think I understand. There is an abandoned Ancient outpost giving off strange energy readings, half-submerged in a lake, and you need someone to investigate. You see it is damp and smelly, and think, oh, Radek can do this job. He _likes_ the damp and the smell.” 

_“Carson said I couldn’t get my cast wet, Radek.”_ Despite his words, Radek can hear the smirk in Rodney’s voice, and if the other man had been in view, he would have been on the receiving end of a very dirty look. _“You’re just lucky I convinced him to let me even come to the planet, period.”_ 

“Oh yes, I feel extremely blessed by Lady Luck,” he says shortly and then wrinkles his nose, trying to ignore the rancid smell. It smells as though something has died, an intense, putrid scent that makes his stomach twist unhappily, and he begins to breathe through his mouth. “So, you are thinking that this is possibly a ZPM?” 

_“Yes, well, we don’t know for certain, which is why you’re down there,”_ Rodney says, and a hint of annoyance creeps into his voice.

This time it’s Radek who smirks, because he knows that Rodney is actually put out about not getting to investigate the energy readings himself. He makes a mental note to taunt Rodney about this as often as possible. And if there is a ZPM down here, Rodney will never, ever hear the end of it. 

_“We need to see if the readings--”_

“Of course we do,” Radek interrupts, voice far too agreeable not to be condescending, and Rodney huffs. Radek feels his lips curve into a self-satisfied grin; this time he directs the grin towards the sergeant next to him, who is now obviously trying not to laugh. He points his flashlight further down the hallway and frowns as the beam catches a puddle. “You said half the outpost is submerged?” 

_“Yes, yes, but that was the other part of the outpost,”_ Rodney says dismissively, and Radek can almost picture him waving a hand and brushing aside Radek’s question. 

Radek’s flashlight lingers on the puddle for a long moment, and his stomach is twisting unhappily again. He has always hated water, ever since he was a child, an intense, unreasonable dislike that led to him refusing to learn how to swim. 

“There are puddles,” he says in a flat voice, and Rodney snorts again. 

_“Don’t want your boots to get wet?”_ Radek mutters something very uncomplimentary under his breath, and Rodney snaps, _“Hey, I may not know what you said exactly, but I recognize a profanity when I hear one. Didn’t your mother teach you to respect your superiors?”_ 

“_My_ mother told me that empty vessels make the most noise,” Radek informs him in a dark tone, and is met with silence as Rodney tries to puzzle out that particular idiom. He shakes his head, tightening his grip on the flashlight and skirting past the puddle. “In other words, I would prefer if you bothered Colonel Sheppard now. I have a ZPM that is waiting to be found.” 

There is silence for another moment, and then Rodney says grumpily, _“Let me know if you find anything.”_ 

“Of course I will,” Radek says in the same agreeable voice and turns off the communication link before Rodney can say a word. He will, of course, contact Rodney as soon as he discovers anything interesting, but in the meantime he is content to let Rodney stew, if only because the smell down here is truly dreadful. 

As though reading his mind, the sergeant makes a face and asks, “Are we almost there? I’m gonna have to take two showers to get this smell off me.” 

Radek checks the readings and assures him, “The energy readings are coming from the next corridor.” 

The sergeant mutters something akin to “Thank God” and quickens his pace; soon they are rounding the corner and the light of Radek’s flashlight is lost in the dim glow that escapes one of the rooms. 

As soon as Radek steps into the room, a weight that he hadn’t realized was on his shoulders eases and he feels his lips twitch upwards into a smile. Oh yes, Rodney will never, ever hear the end of this. He turns the communication link back on and says, smugness coloring his voice, “I will remember this day as the one where God showed His hand and revealed how He loves me more than you, Rodney.” 

_“You found a ZPM?”_ Rodney’s voice is a mixture of incredulity and envy, and Radek’s smile widens until his cheeks begin to ache. 

“Oh yes, I am definitely looking at a ZPM as we speak.” Radek glances around the room, but it is oddly barren besides the glowing ZPM. There are no inscriptions on the wall at all. He frowns. “Do we know what is using the ZPM’s power at the moment?” 

_“No, though obviously not the lights,”_ Rodney mutters. _“Bring it up here, and we can get it back to Atlantis to see how much energy is in it.”_ 

“Be there soon.” Radek kneels down next to the ZPM, and touches it gently, almost reverently, before he murmurs with an ironic little smile on his lips, “_Těší mě_.” He ignores the sergeant’s curious look and a moment later puts the ZPM into the carrying case, the one they brought just in case Lady Luck favored them, and carefully tucks it inside his backpack. 

“Let me carry that for you, Doc,” the sergeant offers with a grin. “Get us back up there faster.” 

Radek hesitates, but surely the sergeant will be careful with the ZPM -- especially if he wishes to remain breathing, because Radek and Rodney will tear him limb from limb if he does something as profane as _drop_ the ZPM -- and so he nods. 

“So how much juice do you think the ZPM has?” the sergeant asks. He’s already halfway out the door so he cannot possibly see Radek’s automatic shrug. 

“Oh, there is no way to be certain until we get it back to Atlantis.” Radek lingers there for a moment, directing his flashlight at the bare walls and frowning thoughtfully. True, he has not been to many Ancient outposts, but it seems odd that the room would be completely empty save for a ZPM. And there was still the matter of what exactly has been using the ZPM’s energy all these years--

“Doc, let’s go,” comes a slightly impatient call from the corridor and Radek smiles apologetically, although the other man can’t see it. 

“Sorry, sorry, just thinking,” he says and frowns at the walls for another second before he starts towards the door. 

It is then that it all falls apart, literally. The floor beneath Radek’s feet suddenly heaves, as though there is some giant beast awakening underneath the outpost, and perhaps it is some mythical creature, because there is a roar that fills the air and rattles his very breath from him. He lunges for the doorway -- isn’t that the safest spot during an earthquake? -- even as the roaring swells. Then something hits him hard, his feet are knocked out from under him, and everything goes black. 

*

He is awakened by agony, a fierce throbbing pain that makes every muscle in his body want to contract. For a moment, his mind shies away from regaining consciousness, preferring the painless oblivion, but a voice is muttering in his ear, low and urgent, and Radek has spent too much time in life-or-death situations not to respond to that particular voice. 

_“Radek, Radek, can you hear me? Radek?”_ 

He struggles to speak and coughs instead, tasting dust and dirt on his lips. Now that he is more awake, he can pick out sensations other than pain, and realizes that there is a coat of dust and grime on what feels like every inch of his bare skin. He coughs again, trying to clear his throat, and forces out, “Rodney?” It comes out more of a croak than anything else, but that doesn’t seem to matter because he hears a relieved sigh in his ears. 

_“Jesus, I’ve been calling for minutes. Why didn’t you answer the first time?”_

Radek opens his eyes, and he should have realized that the grime would be coating his glasses as well, though really, he’s more surprised that his glasses managed to stay on. One of the lenses is cracked, of course, and the other coated with dust, but otherwise the glasses are intact. “I am afraid you have not trained me to answer you while unconscious, Rodney,” he says dryly, and then begins to gingerly move his limbs. “Not yet, anyway.” His right leg obeys him easily enough, with an ache that promises future bruises, but when he tries to move his left, the throbbing becomes a sudden spike of agony and he chokes out a string of Czech curses. 

_“Radek?”_ Rodney’s voice is alarmed. 

“My leg, it--” Radek struggles to breathe, closing his eyes and almost panting until the pain recedes slightly. There is still intense pressure beneath his skin, the pain swelling and ebbing like the tide, but Radek tries to ignore the pain, concentrates instead on the sound of Rodney’s quick breathing in his ear. “Broken, I think.” He tests his arms, cautiously, and sighs in relief when they too just feel bruised and sore. Trying to keep his left leg as still as possible, he takes off his glasses and attempts to clean them to no avail. 

There is a pause, and when Rodney speaks again, it is with forced briskness. _“Some of the corridor collapsed during the earthquake. We’re getting through the rubble as fast as we can, so just stay still and try not to move that leg.”_

“Yes, Rodney, do not use leg that causes intense agony if moved. Brilliant plan,” Radek says, although it lacks its usual bite and halfway through takes on a breathless quality, because the pain is not lessening and is in fact increasing. He squeezes his eyes shut, breathes deep, and tries to think of anything other than the throbbing agony that makes up his leg. 

A thought strikes him, and he frowns. “Oh, the sergeant, the ZPM--” He realizes he doesn’t even know the soldier’s name and a vague sensation of guilt presses down on his chest. 

_“Sergeant Barker -- what, Colonel? -- fine, I’m so sorry, Sergeant_ Butler _will be fine. A concussion, probably, but he managed to be on this side of the collapsed wall, so he’s taking the ZPM to Atlantis and getting rescue and medical teams as we speak.”_ 

Radek gives up trying to clean his glasses and slides them back onto his nose, squinting at the smudges. There is a long moment of silence, in which his leg throbs and tendrils of pain creep up his leg and clench the muscles in his stomach. Trying to distract himself, he licks his lips, grimaces at the taste, and asks, “Do you think that the -- the earthquake has anything to do with us removing the ZPM?” 

_“It would be a rather big coincidence, you removing the ZPM and less than two minutes later, there’s an earthquake,”_ Rodney says, and Radek thinks he can hear the thoughtful frown in the other man’s voice. 

“There -- there was nothing but the ZPM in the room. Nothing on -- on the walls, and no other Ancient technology in the room. There was only the ZPM. I thought it seemed odd, but I just wanted to take -- to take the ZPM and go….” He remembers what he told Rodney earlier and laughs weakly. “I suppose God does not love me as much as I -- I thought He did. Either that, or He took offense at my comment.”

_“Or He took offense at an atheist using Him to gloat.”_ 

“Or that,” Radek agrees and closes his eyes. The cracked lens, on top of the incessant throbbing in his leg, is giving him a headache. “We shall have to search the -- the database, see if there is anything about the Ancients trying to control earthquakes.” 

_“Yes, because that will help us fight the Wraith,”_ Rodney drawls, and Radek _knows_ that the other man is rolling his eyes. 

“Shut up,” Radek says with no real venom. “I did not mean now, but perhaps in the future. I--” The floor quivers. For a moment he doesn’t understand, and then the ground begins to heave in the same manner as before. 

_“Aftershock,”_ he hears Rodney saying, voice sharp and panicky, and then the floor ripples beneath him, jostling his leg; white-hot pain explodes in his head and a scream wrenches itself from his throat that doesn’t quite drown out the roaring that fills his ears once more. 

And then something hits his leg, strikes right where the pressure is the most intense, and it feels as though someone has stabbed a thousand tiny needles into the bone, sliced deep into the marrow, shattered the bone and torn apart sinew and everything else beneath the skin. 

This time, he is almost relieved to sink into the mercifully painless darkness even as Rodney shouts his name. 

*

The pain is back, the agony like a creeping vine that unfurls its blood-red tendrils in the black beneath his eyelids. He drifts back towards consciousness slowly, almost grudgingly. There is pain, the same deep throbbing pressure as before that makes him want to curse or perhaps even cry, but there is a soft hand touching him too, fingers lightly pressing against his throat, and a gentle voice murmurs, “Doctor Zelenka?” 

Radek forces his eyes open. 

Teyla is crouched beside him, an unreadable expression on her face. It is concern, perhaps, and probably reassurance, but Radek has never been very good with reading the subtleties of other people’s expressions, and Teyla’s looks are far subtler than most. 

“Doctor Zelenka,” she says again, and he attempts a weak smile. “We are working on getting you out of here.” 

He wonders at that, how she could be crouched beside him and yet not able to get him out of the outpost. Then he realizes that her face and clothing are covered with dirt, as though she’s squeezed herself through a small tunnel. 

Radek tries to speak, mouth as dry as the Sahara; each word feels like a million miniature knives pricking his throat. “If the outpost is still unstable--” He falters there, something like despair and fear twisting his stomach into knots, because to die alone in the dark and the damp--

“We do not leave anyone behind,” Teyla says firmly. There is a shade of reproach in her voice, as though she cannot believe that Radek just suggested abandoning him.

He wants to laugh at that but cannot muster the strength to do so. Instead he just moves his head a little, in the barest semblance of a nod, and smiles wryly. He should have known better -- Sheppard and the others believe in the ‘no man left behind’ sentiment to the point of zealousness -- but he had to try. Hopefully Rodney at least has gone back to Atlantis. 

_“Radek? Teyla, is he awake?”_ 

Radek sighs. Again, he should have known better. Ignoring the pain, he forces out, “Yes, I am awake, McKay, and wondering why you are not back in Atlantis with Butler.” 

_“Why would I be back in Atlantis?”_ Rodney asks, sounding confused and just the slightest bit suspicious, as though he suspects Radek has also received a knock on the head as well as a broken leg and is now talking crazy. 

“Doctor Zelenka is concerned about the instability of the outpost, Rodney,” Teyla says calmly, and her hand is resting on Radek’s shoulder once more. Radek’s not quite sure whether her touch is meant to reassure him that they’ll do no such thing or to keep quiet any further statements about how they should leave him behind. 

If the latter is the case, it doesn’t succeed, because Radek licks his lips and says, “There has already been one aftershock, Rodney. There may be more. I think--”

_“Oh, don’t pull any of that self-sacrificing crap on me, Radek,”_ Rodney snaps. _“We’re getting you out of here and going back home to see how much power that ZPM you found has, got it?”_ 

Despite the throbbing of his leg and the darkness lurking at the corner of his vision, Radek rolls his eyes and snorts. “Yes, yes, Rodney, you will be my knight in shining armor, rescuing me from the dungeon.” 

This time, it’s Rodney who snorts. _“Shut up and let us work.”_ 

Radek stops arguing, mostly because the pain is increasing in unrelenting increments and he knows that his breath will start catching in his throat soon, which will only distract and distress Rodney should he hear it. Instead, Radek focuses on pushing the pain back. It is all but impossible to do, as sweat breaks out on the back of his neck and his stomach clenches so tightly that he’s surprised when the breakfast he had a few hours previously stays down. He can feel every muscle locking up against the onslaught of agony, and it is all he can do not to just sink back into unconsciousness. 

Despites his efforts to remain conscious, though, he _must_ drift, because he startles like a man caught half-asleep when a new voice speaks on his headset. At his hiss of agony as his surprised movement jostles his leg and the pain spikes to unbearable levels, Teyla’s hand tightens on his shoulder, but he is too busy fighting back a groan and the bile he can taste in the back of his throat to reassure her that he’s all right. 

_“Radek, how are you feeling?”_ Carson repeats himself, worry thickening his accent, and Radek wants to laugh a little despite the agony. His leg might be -- probably is -- broken. How does Carson _think_ he feels? When he doesn’t answer, Carson asks, _“Teyla?”_

“He is conscious, Doctor Beckett, but in severe pain,” Teyla says. The concern is obvious in her voice as well. 

_“Radek, Teyla can give you something for the pain. Just nod if you want it, lad.”_

Radek is already nodding before Carson finishes his sentence and almost weeps in relief as he feels Teyla dab a cold alcohol swab against the crook of his elbow and then the prick of a needle. And perhaps he’s crying without his knowledge, because Teyla’s touch is extremely gentle and she squeezes his shoulder afterwards to comfort him. 

It seems to take forever for the painkiller to take effect, but gradually Radek finds himself breathing easier, the throbbing of his leg easing to a deep, dull ache that, while discomforting, is not overwhelming. 

“Thank you,” he says, the words coming out hoarse but grateful. 

Teyla’s mouth curves into a small smile, and when she speaks, her voice is warm and full of confidence. “We will get you out of here soon, Radek,” she says, and this time Radek believes her. 

He closes his eyes and allows himself to drift, welcoming the dulled senses that came with the painkiller, until Rodney’s strident, “Finally!” fills his ears. Radek opens his eyes just in time to be half-blinded by someone’s flashlight as the medical team squeezes through the small man-made tunnel. 

When he can see again, Teyla has stepped aside to get out of the medical team’s way, and Carson’s smiling anxiously down at him, sharp blue eyes accessing his injuries. 

“Well, let’s get out of here, shall we?” Carson says, pale but cheerful even as he and the rest of the medical team put a brace on Radek’s neck and move him onto a stretcher, careful not to jostle his injured leg. 

Radek licks his lips, but this time he can barely taste the dirt and grime as he says slowly, “Let me guess, no more visiting half-submerged outposts for a while?” 

He can hear the half-slur to his words, and isn’t really surprised at Carson’s gentle, “Definitely no more trips for a couple weeks.” Carson’s smile widens, takes on a tinge of wry humor. “Think of it as a vacation.”

“Yes, well, there are plenty of things for him to do on Atlantis,” Rodney calls from beyond the tunnel, sounding both relieved and testy, and Radek huffs out a laugh. “He won’t be bored.” 

When they emerge from the tunnel, Rodney is hovering there, arms folded against his chest and an unreadable look on his face. “I’ll, uh, let you know how much power the ZPM has,” he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and Radek realizes his expression is one of vague guilt and discomfort. 

He would nod, but the brace makes it impossible to do so, and so Radek just says, trying for deadpan and not that certain if he succeeds, “If it turns out to have little power, I wish to smash it once we drain it.” 

“What?” Rodney looks scandalized, the guilt vanishing from his expression. “We can’t _smash_\-- Oh.” He rolls his eyes at Radek’s small smile. “Funny.” 

“I thought so,” Radek says, using the same obnoxiously agreeable tone as earlier. That should get rid of any ridiculous guilt Rodney might be feeling and replace it with irritation. His smile widens at Carson’s amused look. 

Then he closes his eyes and waits to breathe fresh air. 

_We have lingered in the chambers of the sea   
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown   
Till human voices wake us, and we drown._  
~ “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot

**Author's Note:**

> "Empty vessels make (the) most noise/sound" -- something that you say which means that people who talk a lot and frequently express their opinions are often stupid. (Czech idiom)
> 
> Těší mě. -- (Czech) Pleased to meet you.


End file.
